Whiting: Differing marijuana laws leave confusing legacy

Nov. 23, 2012

Updated Aug. 21, 2013 1:17 p.m.

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Joyce Weitzberg is next to an empty refrigerator at her medical marijuana dispensary, Nutritional Concepts PRC. She had to close down a year ago on orders of the U.S. Department of Justice. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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A board listing different strains of marijuana to treat certain types of medical problems hangs on the wall of the shuttered Nutritional Concepts PRC where Joyce Weitzberg dispensed medical marijuana. Weitzberg, a registered nurse, researched the various strains of marijuana so that patients were better able to treat their symptoms. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Joyce Weitzberg stands next to one of the display cases that used to be filled with medical marijuana before her Costa Mesa dispensary, Nutritional Concepts PRC, was shut down by a U.S. Department of Justice order a year ago. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Joyce Weitzberg, a registered nurse, researched the various strains of marijuana that she dispensed at Nutritional Concepts PRC in Costa Mesa so that patients would be better able to treat their symptoms. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Joyce Weitzberg, a registered nurse, has not been able to dispense medical marijuana since closing down a year ago by U.S. Department of Justice order. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Joyce Weitzberg, a registered nurse, said she focused on the medical problems of the patients who came to her Costa Mesa medical marijuana dispensary before she had to close down on orders of the Feds. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

Joyce Weitzberg is next to an empty refrigerator at her medical marijuana dispensary, Nutritional Concepts PRC. She had to close down a year ago on orders of the U.S. Department of Justice. PAUL RODRIGUEZ, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

It's a very weird world when a grandmother in California is harassed for selling medical marijuana while voters in two other states approve legalizing marijuana.

I sit in Joyce Weitzberg's shuttered marijuana dispensary in Costa Mesa. After a U.S. Department of Justice order to close, a fridge that once chilled pot "edibles" is empty. A glass display case that once housed more than two dozen mason jars stuffed with weed is bare.

Weitzberg's diploma in nursing from New York's Pace University (Class of '77) hangs on the wall. Her white medical jacket lies limp on a chair.

As she talks, Weitzberg, 63, gently strokes her hands. I glance down. Her fingers are swollen. One knuckle is almost the size of a golf ball.

Weitzberg explains she takes cannabis for arthritic pain, among other ailments. But when the conversation widens, she chooses her words carefully.

The last thing this mother with two grandchildren wants to do is land in jail.

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When California's Proposition 19 to legalize marijuana was defeated two years ago by a 7 percentage-point margin, supporters considered it a victory of sorts. After all, 46.5 percent voter approval seemed pretty good after decades with the feds lumping together marijuana and heroin.

Most who worked for legalization predicted an easy victory in 2012. But with three competing pro-marijuana ballot initiatives in the works, none garnered enough signatures to qualify for the November ballot.

It was a crushing defeat, a defeat some blame on addle-brained stoners.

But Patti Gordon, a legalization supporter, blames it on egos.

"Men have (messed) with this for 41 years," says Gordon, who actively supports the National Organization to Reform Marijuana Laws. "Ending Prohibition took 13 years, and the women did it.

"It's time to bring in the big guns, and that's the women."

Gordon isn't shy about using marijuana. She was the public contact person for a ballot initiative fundraiser in June dubbed "Women, Wine and Weed." Calling herself "over 60," she also admits to smoking pot instead of indulging in an evening cocktail and reports no ill effects.

I ask Weitzberg what she thinks of legalizing marijuana. Her answer surprises.

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The former nurse says when she heard about the pro-pot victories in Colorado and Washington, she was elated.

"The voice of the people," Weitzberg says with a hint of frustration, "is what drives the Constitution."

Still, for a woman who once sold medical marijuana, Weitzberg takes a cautious approach when it comes to legalization.

One of the major issues that bedevils cities is the proliferation of dispensaries. On WeedMaps.com, I counted more than 100 pot shops for a column a few years ago. Today, most have gone mobile to dodge the feds. But costly crackdowns have had little impact.

Within the span of a few years, the number of dispensaries appears to have doubled.

Weitzberg says California's compassionate-use act suggests one dispensary for every 50,000 people. She estimates that would mean, generously, three medical-marijuana collectives in Costa Mesa where she lives. Weitzberg suggests six – away from schools and tucked into medical complexes.

She also advocates that operators be local residents, which she says would make them more responsible to the community.

Hoping to see a more lenient Costa Mesa council come January – her husband ran and lost – Weitzberg admits she's laying groundwork for an ordinance that could help her reopen.

Weitzberg blames the state for signing off on too many dispensaries. And she sounds like the grandmother and former nurse she is when she recommends more "mature" operators.

"Every 24-year-old boy in California wants to open a shop. It's not about medicine."

So how does a grandmother find enough product to run a weed dispensary?

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Weitzberg started with a friend's son who grew marijuana. Eventually, she connected with growers in Northern California.

She reaches in her black purse and pulls out something like an eyedropper – except the label reads "Cannabis."

"Do you have a rec?"

"A wreck?" I reply, confused. It turns out Weitzberg is asking if I have a doctor's recommendation for medical marijuana. I don't. She explains she uses the drops for arthritic pain as well as for other medical conditions.

Looking at Weitzberg, 80 pounds of suffering, it's difficult to understand why the federal government continues to classify marijuana with heroin as a Schedule One drug.

A year ago, the governors of Rhode Island and Washington petitioned the feds to reclassify cannabis. They said the change is needed to safely regulate medical marijuana.

Instead of reclassifying, the Drug Enforcement Administration stepped up its war on dispensaries. They spent vast sums of taxpayer dollars to crack down on collectives in cities such as Costa Mesa and Lake Forest.

To date, 18 states – including the Golden State – allow medical marijuana. And, with the November election, Colorado and Washington are now in the process of establishing legalization protocol.

As we wind down the conversation, we stroll through the dispensary. It's small with several rooms that reveal the split personality of dispensing medical marijuana.

Weitzberg's office, where she used to counsel patients, feels like a sanctuary. Grass wallpaper softens. Drapes and curtains offer coziness.

At the same time, bars cover every window. Cameras peer from ceilings. Doors and windows are wired for security and connected to the police station. Between the lobby and the "bud room" where marijuana was sold, there's a bulletproof window.

Weitzberg says she had Iraqi war veterans for security. But beyond escorting away rowdy wannabe customers, the men had little trouble.

Looking around, Weitzberg speaks quietly, "There was so much compassion and love in here. I miss that."

As Weitzberg locks up the empty dispensary, I consider the two women: Gordon, the recreational pot user; Weitzberg, the medical-marijuana user.

Criminals in the eyes of some laws – but not others.

David Whiting's column appears four days a week; dwhiting@ocregister.com.

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